


Every Moment Spent Together

by ami_ven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: writerverse, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t want to talk about it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Moment Spent Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "waste my time"

“Go away, Sammy,” said Dean, when he heard his bedroom door open. He was sitting on the floor on the far side of his bed, his back against the mattress, facing away from the door, and he didn’t look up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“And what’s there to talk about, anyway?” Dean continued. “I’m a irredeemable asshole, and we all know it. I wasn’t meant for that white picket fence crap, Sam. I ruin relationships, every single one of them. And the one time it looks like maybe it _could_ work out, with the only person I ever—”

He broke off with a humorless chuckle. “But he’s not a person, is he? He’s a freakin’ _Angel of the Lord_ and what do I possibly have to offer him? Nothing, that’s what. Less than nothing, because no way is Cas breaking even on this deal. He’s right, Sammy, I only ever call him when I need him to do something for me, like the thoughtless bastard I am, and I don’t know why he keeps wasting his time with me when—”

“Not a single instant spent with you has been a waste of my time, Dean Winchester,” said an angry voice that was _not_ Sam’s, and Dean whirled, nearly toppling onto the bed in his hurry to stand.

“Cas!”

The angel stood in his bedroom doorway, and he was every inch an angel, too, hands curled into fists at his side and his blue eyes furious.

“Do you think me so fragile,” asked Castiel, “that a few harsh words from you could harm me?”

“No, of course not—”

“And do you think my promises mean so little to me that I would not return to you as I had sworn?”

“I—”

“An oath I made on what is most precious to me, in all of my father’s creation, though I have no true claim on it.”

“On what” asked Dean, curious despite herself.

Castiel’s expression softened. “You, Dean,” he said. “Your soul.”

“Oh,” said Dean, more a breath than a word. “Well, um, that’s already yours, Cas.”

“More than I deserve,” the angel said, with a smile.

“No, it’s not,” Dean told him. “You deserve so much more than me.”

Cas rounded the bed in three long strides to cup both hands, impossibly gentle, around Dean’s face, then kiss him soundly. The hunter mistrusted words, still had trouble believing that Cas meant the things he said, no matter how often they were repeated. But actions were harder to dismiss, and the way Cas kissed him— patiently, like Dean was worth the time; thoroughly, like he was worth the effort— made it difficult not to believe him.

“Meant it, y’know,” said Dean, pleasantly breathless, when they finally broke the kiss. “’Bout my soul. S’yours.”

Cas kissed him again, gently. “I would spend all of my time with you, if I could, Dean,” he said, softly. “I return to you as soon as I’m able, always.”

“I know,” said Dean, and he was starting to believe it.

THE END


End file.
